A Holt for a Holt - Prologe to Chapter 3
by Ranapaw
Summary: Evil descends on the shore of Mossflower country, by the name of Barax Leechpaw and his numerous fleet.......A young otter leaves her holt in search of a different life.....Two Abbeydwellers wander lost, unsure of what lies ahead of them....Please R&R!!
1. Prologue to Chaprter 3

Prologue 

The wind howled through the tall oak trees. Shaking like a brittle fall leaf, a figure emerged on the dust path.

Shivering, the frail squirrel clutched his thin cloak to his body. He shut his eyes tight against the mass of swirling dust and debris.

Leaning against the wind, the squirrel continued on determined to deliver his message. Never he had seen such storms so violent and furious come off the sea. But even Mother Nature would be able to stop him from delivering his message.

Picking up his step, he started to jog, nimble enough for an almost all gray-red squirrel. Out of a swirling dust tunnel a burly creature appeared and placed a paw to its mouth and let out a sharp whistle. 

Out of a nearby bunch of bushes, a gang of veiled creatures surrounded the squirrel. Dark material covered their faces but guessing from their garb, he guessed they were a band of wandering trouble-making outcasts.

The wind bellowed again, picking up the dust a swirled it around the squirrel and the veiled creatures, who surrounded him.

Chapter 1

The otter port of Mauda bustled with the arrival of another sea vessel. Port Mauda, located southwest of Redwall was an important stop for all north bound sea merchants. Mauda was the last port in-between Southward and Salamandastron.

The arriving ship was a common visitor of Port Mauda and was known for carrying a wide array of goods.

A plumb mouse ran out onto the jetty and pulled down hard on a small ship bell to give a warning to all the smaller fishing boats in the jetty. The larger in coming ship would easily be able to smash them into toothpicks. 

On the WaveWeaver the crew, beasts were anxious to get to land after a season on the seas with seeing land. The WaveWeaver was a capable vessel, able to withstand the battering waves with a stout hull on her. Yet it was also a fast ship, hence it's name, able to weave in-between the waves. Her strong timbers were treated with an exotic risen, to keep the wood from rotting with all the sea salts. Three tall masts stood out from the deck, each with billowing sails. 

The ship itself wasn't only known as a merchant ship, but also a battle ship. Many times the WaveWeaver had defended the shores from sea vermin. This was evident as the ship slowly made it's way to the port. One of the smaller masts on the prow was cracked in half and almost all the sails had holes burnt in them. It was plain to anybeast that the holes could of only be made by fire arrows. 

"Hoist 'em sails mate!" A loud, commanding voice ordered the crew. The voice belonged to Tashoal, captain of the WaveWeaver. Tashoal was a lean, but hardy otter. His appearance was quite fearsome, a dark patch covered his left eye and tattoos decorated most of his arms. The eye he had for sight seemed to follow everything and take notice of it. The dark brown colour, drawing. Even though one would think by his lean size that he was a frail beast, but many beasts had gravely found out the truth. Tashoal was an agile and cunning warrior, especially when his curved swords were in his paws. 

He shifted the cloak on his back, pushing it so that it would stop blowing into his face. Striding along the deck, the otter took his place at the helm of his ship as they made their way towards Mauda. All around him, his crew worked to prepare the ship for docking. In the rigging above him, squirrels pulled up the billowing sails. A hedgehog at the tiller of the hardy ship cupped his paws around his mouth. 

"Shall I put 'er in on the port side. C'ptn?" Lotip's gruff, bass voice called out to Tashoal. 

"Belay that mate!" The captain's gaze didn't leave the port ahead. "Pull up tha tiller. We'll let the tide push us in." 

When the ship's ropes were thrown to the sailors on the jetty, and the gangplank lowered, Tashoal strode down to the docks. He patted a mouse that worked quickly to tie the ship to the dock, with a callused paw. Throughout the port, Tashoal was equally considered friend and foe. As he walked along the jetty, Tashoal stopped to talk and exchange smiles with a group of otter ladies working to repair some torn nets. 

He grinned and winked at the ladies as he passed, sending them into a fit of giggles. Tashoal was a fairly handsome otter, except for the black patch over his eye, and he knew it. He gave the ladies one last look before continuing on, but he wasn't going to his normal place of rest.

Most of the time, during his stay in Mauda, he could often be found in the taverns having a drink or with a group of the waitresses telling tales of the high seas. Instead of heading to the Salty Dog tavern, he turned down a long winding alleyway. At the end of the alley was a tall brick building. 

The building was made of whitewashed limestone, cut in large bricks. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, shuddering as a blast of moist, musty air hit him. Buttoning his dark navy sea coat up, he nodded to the frowning vole that sat by the door. He suppressed another shudder; this places dampness always seemed to chill him raw to the bone. 

Ascending the long set of stairs, the otter came to a large oaken door with letters SSC carved deeply into the wood. Only a few certain beasts (or at least that Tashoal knew of) knew the true meaning of those words. Tashoal was one of them.

Pulling a dagger out of the sleeve of his jacket he twisted it and hit the door with the handle. He knocked sharply, four times. From inside a crackling voice beckoned him in; the voice reminded him of claws pulled across a pan or something metal.

"Tashoal? We've been expecting you, do come in," The door swung ajar to reveal a large circular room, surprising well lit for having no windows at all. 

Standing in the door, a bulky mouse wearing thick leather amour blocked his way. In his paw was a tall spear, almost as tall as Tashoal. The blade on the spear was shaped like a large broadleaf, except for the serrated edges on it. Only a creature working for the SSC wielded a strange spear like that.

At the quiet 'ding' of a bell, the guard slowly moved out of Tashoal's way, allowing him to enter the room. His eyes were still locked on the otter, even as he took his place by the door again. 

The room was exotically decorated, with treasures and unusual things all over the place. Hanging on the walls, lavish tapestries covered every inch of the slab limestone underneath. Over the floor, a thick, soft, burgundy coloured carpet covered almost every bit of the hardwood floor. The furnisher was all made of dark wood, all the tables; everything was made of the dark wood. 

Tashoal let his gaze wander around the room, he examined all the new treasures and items. Along a short round table, brightly coloured silk pillows took the place of chairs. Chests filled with jewels of all sorts were all around the room, but the one filled with gold pieces caught his eye. 

"Tashoal, Tashoal, Tashoal," The cracking voice came from behind him. Tashoal slowly turned around the see the beast that was talking.

In front of him stood an elderly sea otter, almost completely gray with age, one of the oldest creatures Tashoal could think of. He leaned heavily on an oaken cane, his body looked so frail that Tashoal was sure that this otter had lived much past the normal seasons. The old one's penetrating brown eyes were the only youthful part of the sea otter.

Around the old one's shoulders hung a silk purple tunic. His arms were covered with faded tattoos and old battle scars. A tight fitting toque covered his ears and looked if it would have defiantly kept the otter warm. 

"Ashtail, mate. Yore still 'anging around 'eh," Tashoal smiled with a hint of mockery in his voice. 

"Funny, you-" The ancient sea beast was started before he launched into a fit of hacking coughs. From out of the shadows of the round room, a squirrel lady jumped to Ashtail's side. In her dark red paws, she held a beaker full of some thick, brown liquid. She lifted the beaker to Ashtail's mouth and let the medication drain down the otter's throat. 

"Yes," Ashtail cleared his throat loudly. "Do sit down, my friend." He shuffled to the circle of pillows. "We have much to discuss."

Tashoal narrowed his eye (for the other was covered with a patch) at the slow moving Ashtail. He never trusted him, and knew that he never would. He hid the scowl that was threatening to decorate his face, and chose to sit on the pillow directly across from Ashtail. An otter maid brought over a tray and passed Tashoal a steaming cup of tea. She had a worried look in her dark, brown eyes. As if she knew that something was going to happen. 

"Why'd ya call me 'ere?" Tashoal said quickly, his voice none too friendly.

Ashtail grinned broadly showing a distinct lack of teeth. "Surely you know, my friend." He sipped at his tea loudly. Tashoal always found it very strange that the eccentric old sea otter didn't have the sea-faring accent like most sea otters. 

"How long has it been since you were last here in Mauda, Tashoal?"

Tashoal slammed his drink down on the table, the glass cup shattering. Shards of long glass were sent flying in every direction. He jumped to his paws, and shook a clenched fist at Ashtail. "YOU SEA BILGE!! You knew we was attacked by vermin!! There was no way to get back 'ere!"

The lean captain could remember two seasons ago, when his payment was due to the SSC. A searat gallon attacked his ship. During the small skirmish, the WaveWeaver had been damaged, bad enough that he didn't make it back to Port Mauda for a whole season. 

Ashtail watched the otter's jaw and fist clench with anger. The old one mused to himself; all was going according to his plan. 

"Poor captain Tashoal," Ashtail's voice dripped with false sympathy. "The Shark Sailor's Circle, understands your misfortune. That's why we've come to an agreement."

Tashoal stood dumbfounded, did they know that he has used the payment that was supposed to go the SSC to repair his ship. His cargo, which had been loads of darkwood timber and southern riches, half was supposed to go the SSC for 'allowing' him to sail the waters. Unknowingly his paws slid to the swords on his back. "You dirty-"

With a loud bang the doors swung open. Twelve rich looking beasts walked in, all with servants behind them. All were retired sea merchants, remembered for many different skills or traits. Each wore a deep yellow badge on their chests. The gold badge they wore was shaped in a circle, with a triangle in the centre of the circle. It was the badge of a SSC member.

A hefty hedgehog led the group he sneered at Tashoal. The otter captain's jaw went slack; it was his first mate, Lotip. That's how they knew he had really sailed to the far south and sold the other half of his cargo to a higher paying group. 

"Do ye not think that pulling thy swords would be unwise?" His voice was as cold as a slab of rock. 

Tashoal shook with fury. He had double-crossed them, and now they knew and wanted their fees. "I'll have yore timber an' silver fer payment of me ship. Soon as me crew an' I get back to the Isles. Just gimme a bit more time, mates."

"Shut thy trap!" Lotip cut him off quickly. "Thou sold yore cargo to another party!"

The group began circling around the Captain. Ashtail however remained seated, sipping away at his tea. 

"Tashoal, that name shall always be remembered by our circle. We have eyes and ears everywhere, never forget that!" The sea otter smiled inward. Nor will we forget.

Chapter 2

The waves greedily ate up the shoreline as the tide came in. In the early morning sun, a Holt of sea otter worked busily, repairing nets, pushing small vessels into the water, and numerous other chores. 

Holt Kelpda was a good-sized fishing Holt. A small cave in the sand led down into the deep sub-ocean caverns. In the wide caverns, all of the Holt lived, slept, and ate. Most of Holt Kelpda's otters fished the seas, but the Holt was also quite known for it's fine quality ship's rope. Many ships stopped in the nearby cove and walked to the Holt to trade things for the rope. 

Out on the dock, Ranapaw grumbled to herself as she scraped off a thick coating of zebra mussels on an overturned boat. The sea otter worked on the boat.

"Stupid, dirty, humph!" She snorted to herself, attacking a mussel with her wooden scrape. Ranapaw was a young sea otter, adventurous and stubborn. Often the elders called her troublesome and blind to tradition. And often at times, she was. 

Ranapaw was a fairly normal looking sea otter, except being a little taller than most. Her sleek fur was brown with her belly being a lighter shade of brown. She stopped to readjust her blue tunic and leather belt around her waist. She would much rather have gone for a swim. 

Even though she had many chores and duties to do around the Holt, Ranapaw usually found a way to escape from the Holt. She often went inland to the nearby forest, or followed the seacoast north. When she did leave to go on her exploring expeditions, she often went missing for the whole day. Her mother and father, with a few cousins, always went out looking for her afraid that something had happened to her. To Ranapaw, it was all in a day.

The heavy thump of somebeast walking towards her brought her back to reality.

"Trouble again, shipmate?"

Ranapaw looked up from her work to see whom it was behind her. She grabbed a scraped off mussel and threw it at Clamstripe. 

"Aww, shut yer trap." She turned back to the boat and continued to scrape away. "Belay! 

You should be 'ere doin' this, not me. Yore the one who dropped tha nets inta' the brine."

Clamstripe laughed, his body shaking with mirth. Clamstripe was much smaller than Ranapaw, even though they were the same age. Ranapaw had always been a little bit taller than most her age though. His fur was a much lighter shade of Ranapaw's normal brown. His was almost to the point of being almost gray. But it Clamstripe's eyes were the most drawing part of him. His eyes seemed to take up most of his head, and give him a look of innocence. 

"Jeez, Ranners," He smacked his thick tail on the hull of the boat. "T'wasn't my fault yore uncle found yore bracelet tangled in the nets."

When the nets were recovered her uncle found Ranapaw's thick shell bracelet tangled in the nets. He knew she never took it off, except when she was helping to repair the nets.

"Clamstripe!" Another voice came from the other end of the long dock. Only the voice was much more commanding and stern. "Yore father 'as been lookin' all over fer you!" Don't you stand there like you've got a lobster on yore rudder, MOVE IT!"

The short otter jumped and speed away from Ranapaw, nearly tripping on a stack of buckets. 

"Ranapaw Kelpda!" 

Ranapaw grimaced at the use of her full name. 

"I told you t'clean them mussels off'n that vessel. A half-dried crab goes faster than you do! Things'll be different now, mate. No more slackin' and spendin' yore days out yonder explorin'.

"Yes, Uncle Nomsea." She sighed, seeing her uncles imposing form shadowing over her. Even though, she couldn't see his face, she he was scowling down at her. Uncle Nomsea always had the seemingly permanent scowl on his face. 

Ranapaw angrily plucked a mussel off the boat and threw it over her shoulder, just barely missing her uncle. She could just imagine in the steam coming out of her uncle's ears.

"RANAPAW!" He roared, spinning her around with a sharp pull on her shoulder so that she was facing him. Her uncle was a full head taller than she was, and much broader across the shoulders. His brown eyes were narrowed and Nomsea's paws were clenched and on his waist. 

All around the pair, other Holt member began to stop what they were doing and watch the spectacle. Waverln, the Holt elder dropped his cockleshell fish lure that he just finished tying. Her quietly nodded as more and more Holt members gathered around. Waverln didn't dislike Ranapaw, but he did know her headstrong and rebellious spirit. 

"Ranapaw Kelpda!!! You will stay in the den and scale fish for the rest of the season for you attitude!!" All of the onlookers gasped. Ranapaw stared coldly at her uncle, refusing to back down. From the corner of her eye she could see her parents. Her mother looked to be on the brink of tears, while her father gripped her paw tightly and wrapped his other arms around her shoulders. He shook his head sadly as her mother sniffed loudly. Ranapaw saw the colour coming to her uncle's face; he looked fit to blow. 

"Look how you've shamed yore parents, me, and the rest o' the Holt with yore ways!" Nomsea yelled at her, raising his fist above his head. "Ya sunk one o' our best vessels, but you even brought a weapon to our Holt!! You know that is forbidden!"

Defiantly Ranapaw grinned at her uncle, showing all the teeth she could. She remembered the night she brought a dagger she had found on the beach back to the den to show everyone. By the den, Waverln shook his grizzled head; Nomsea had gone too far with Ranapaw. But must she make things worse by mocking him?

With a small splash, Ranapaw dove into the water leaving a trial of bubbles in her wake. Nomsea's paw cut through empty air. Hantia, Ranapaw's father hastily jumped forward pushing his brother to the ground, but the damage had been done. 

Ranapaw swam as hard and as fast as she could. She wanted be as far away from her uncle and the Holt as she could get. Slowing slightly Ranapaw floated on the surface of the sea. Her uncle had almost struck her! She could hardly believe it had almost happened. 

One of her Holt's unwritten laws proclaimed that no otter would commit any act of violence against another. Why did her uncle almost hit her and break what he believed so firmly and forcefully. 

Getting out of the water, Ranapaw looked over her shoulder. Rising over the dunes, smoke from the cooking fires were all that she could see of her Holt. 

CHAPTER TWO

As the sun began to spread its last palette of colours across, the sky; Ranapaw pushed another piece of wood into the fire. She considered herself lucky to find good, dry wood right on the beach. The wood from the hull of the grounded ship was a lucky find! Her Holt had to stockpile wood for fires because very few trees grew on the dunes. They brought back quiet an amount of wood when they did go inland. Of course, the Holt used wood for other purposes than fires.

Surprisingly to Ranapaw almost all of the ship rested high on the sand. Only during a high tide did any part of the ship touch water. A high tide must have pushed the ship onto shore and then when the tide went out the ship was left high and dry. 

Ranapaw climbed up onto the forward deck, using the old ropes to pull herself up. The weathered timbers under her footpaws creaked and groaned as she explored the deck of the ship. It was an old merchant ship she assumed by the narrow keel, which allowed for the ship to cut through the water like a warm knife through butter. 

The deck of the ship was completely bare, no barrels, crates, ropes or rigging anywhere the eye could see. Strange, she thought to herself opening the door to the forward cabin. It too, was completely stripped bare of everything expect one old ship table which was bolted to the floor. 

"Nice 'eh matey?" 

Ranapaw gave a yelp of surprise and spun around. A skinny sea otter stood in the doorway, blocking out the last bit of sunlight. How many more times would she get surprised today? Her mouth dropped as the figure stepped out from the doorway.

"Piketail?!?" She gasped. Never before had she ever heard him utter even a single word. 

Piketail arrived, well more like been found wandering near the Holt when Ranapaw was young. The Holt fed, and treated the cuts on his body. The strange otter was even given his own place to stay in the den.

Everyone thought that Piketail was a mute, or just too dumb to understand speech. The tall, skinny otter, with black burnt patches of fur, usually stayed away from everyone. Only coming to the Holt it he needed something, or to borrow tools. When Piketail did come by the Holt, everyone but Nomsea noticed the burnt patches of fur and silvery scars that crisscrossed his rail of a body.

"This used to be my own ship." He said quietly, leaning heavily against the wall.

"What 'appened? This pile o' timbers ain't got nuthin' on it." Ranapaw asked, dropping her eyes to avoid staring at Piketail. A slight sigh and mumble from Piketail didn't escape her ears.

"'Tis a long story, Ranapaw me gal." He replied, making his way to the door. He looked over his shoulder. "Since yore runnin' away, ya' best come with me. Follow me."

Together the walked along the quiet, sand beach until they came to a spot in the sea where a large boulder stuck up above the water line.

"This be where I sleep an' eat, mate. I can show ya' if you like." Piketail smiled, causing Ranapaw to go wide-eyed. He smiled! She didn't think that was possible for Piketail! She'd never much for facial expression for Piketail, just a frown. 

"Ranapaw?"

"Err, oh, uh, sure." She stuttered, caught off guard. "Lead the way."

Stepping into the water, Piketail dived into the water. His tail smacked loudly against the water. Ranapaw ran to the shoreline, looking for Piketail. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. 

She shrugged and dove into the water, swimming towards the boulder.

~*~

Underneath the boulder, a large opening could be seen. Ranapaw swam closer, circling the large opening. 'Dark caves hide dark creatures' he mothers advise and caution rang in her ears.

When she was positive that there were no dark creatures in the cave, she ventured in. The cave roof dipped down, and Ranapaw felt a slight difference in the water. The water inside the cave seemed cooler, much cooler than the ocean water.

Ranapaw found it curious that there was no algae or seaweed growing on the sides of the cave. What kind of cave is it?!? 

Suddenly the cave walls spread, and the roof rose up sharply. When she surfaced, Ranapaw found Piketail waiting for her, resting on a wide, flat rock ledge. His long legs were half in and half out of the water. 

"There ya' are mate. I was wonderin' if'n you got lost." He said gruffly, pulling his legs out of the water. 

"How'd ya find this place, Piketail?" She asked, amazed and awed by the beauty of the stalactites hanging from the roof of the cave. "I ain't ever seen a place like it."

"Har har!" Piketail laughed heartily. "I found these 'ere place when I was fishin'. 

Followed a big 'ole salmon I did." His voice was full of pride.

Pulling herself out of the water, Ranapaw shook her body. Droplets of water

sprayed in all directions. 

"You've got shiploads o' cargo down 'ere matey." She noted the crates and ship chests covering the wide ledges.

The cave was a deep cavern with clear, cool water forming a pond in the centre. Only two old salmon swam the waters of the pond, because a fresh water stream fed into the pond. No salt-water creatures could live in the half-fresh water pond, and no fresh water creature could live in a half-salt water pond. Only salmon could. Eerie could describe the pond and cave.

Piketail just sighed and nodded, as if the chests were a burden. He readjusted the strange cloth around his head that shadowed his eyes.

"C'mere Rana," He waves his paw to the ledge he was sitting on. The other otter joined him, curious to know more. "I bets yore old enough t'know about yore family."

Ranapaw almost started to tell Piketail she was plenty old enough to know about anything he'd have to say about her family. She bit her tongue; she'd gotten in enough trouble already today.

"First o' all," He grunted, pulling off the cloth that hid his eyes and the top of his head. "I ain't Piketail, my name is Tashoal."

Blinking slowly with astonishment, Ranapaw stared at Piketail, now Tashoal. He had no left eye. All she could do was blink to avoid looking into the empty socket, where an eye should have been. Tashoal knew by her the expression on her face that she heard his name before. Probably from her uncle telling her she'll grow up to be like the wild sea captain Tashoal.

Piketail was the evil, plundering Tashoal her uncle warned her of? Ranapaw was thunderstruck, Uncle Nomsea told stories of the one-eyed pirate otter. How he turned his back on his Holt when they were in the midst of a food shortage. He left to learn the way of war and make himself rich, but ended up killing many innocent, peaceful creatures. She even heard stories that he killed whole crew once!

"You?!?" Ranapaw managed to blurt out.

"Aye, me." Tashoal replied not surprise at all at Ranapaw's reaction. "Though I ain't what I seem t'be accordin' t'yore uncle."

Ranapaw fumbled with her bracelet, nodding at Tashoal. Now she really wanted to hear his story.

"I was once called Tashoal Kelpda, but that'n was quite a while ago." He saw Ranapaw gulp slowly at her own family's name. "Aye, I was yore own pa's older brother, with Nomsea bein' the oldest o' the bunch." Tashoal paused thinking about how he could explain everything. "When we three were young, meself and Nomsea were alot like you are now. We were wild an' care-free an' left the Holt to learn 'ow to be warriors."

"We left yore Dad with the Holt in case somethin' 'appened to us." The otter's empty socket stared at Ranapaw, or so she thought. "Someone 'ad to be there to take over the Holt when yore grandfather died. Anyway, we left to the forest where we heard a ship C'ptn was trained creatures for 'is ship. We found the C'ptn. I still 'member 'is name...Gailclaw. When we got there the C'ptn took a liken' t'us, and trained us 'imself.

"Nomsea was big an' broad, while I was taller an' quicker. Fer almost two seasons we was trained 'ow to fight with our paw an' swords."

"Swords?!?" Ranapaw interrupted, unable to control her curiosity. Her Holt strictly forbid any sort of weapon in a Holt members paw. Slings were only used to fend off net-raiding sea birds, but a sword was simply mind bending. Nomsea using swords really shocked her. He very strictly made sure there were no weapons in the Holt. He even made visitors drop all weapons on the dock. 

"Aye, Nomsea was one o' the best sword beast I ever saw." Tashoal nodded, and continued his story. "Anyways we was picked for the crew an' soon were out on the 'igh seas. 'Twas that first season on Gailclaw's ship that we met our first vermin ship."

Ranapaw stared wide-eyed at Tashoal in pure amazement.

"The vermin ship attacked us, and we was called to arms." From the sheaths on his back, Tashoal drew one of his long curved swords. He held it out to show Ranapaw. "Nomsea's blades were just like these. We was fightin' off the vermin when Nomsea slew a big ugly rat in front o' him. He couldn't believe what 'e did. He stared at his swords and cast 'em inta' the sea. When the battle was over 'e jumped ship an' headed back to our old Holt."

"He never told no one about what 'e did, 'cept for yore Pa. That's why 'e's so strict about weapons." Tashoal handed Ranapaw the curved sword. 

"Nomsea, a sword beast?" Ranapaw looked at the sword, trying hard to imagine her uncle holding a sword like this. The curved swords cool metal blade seemed to show a different reflection of herself, instead of the one she usually saw in the water. "What did you do after Nomsea left?"

Tashoal sighed deeply, curious wasn't she? 

"I made a promise to Nomsea that I wouldn't come back to the Holt, 'coz they would have known wot 'e had done. So, I stayed aboard Gailclaw's ship. Slowly I made me way up the ranks, 'till I was the first mate. By that time, I was getting' good with me swords. Anyways, Gailclaw soon got mortally wounded during a vermin raid. So o' course I became the C'ptn o' the ship." Tashoal took his sword back from Ranapaw. 

"The ship was called the WaveWeaver, an' we sailed the seas as a merchant ship takin' cargo from port t' port. But we also kept a watch of fer vermin an' took care o' them to keep the shores safe." The lean, scarred sea otter stood up and re-sheathed his sword. "There's more to the story, but I ain't gonna bother yore ears with it, 'tis an odd tale."

His voice dipped low as he stood up and leaned on a rock ledge, with his arm up on the flat part of the ledge. Ranapaw paddled her feet in the water, still wanting to hear more. 

"How'd you know I ran away?" Ranapaw narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Tashoal, remembering his comment when they were back on his old ship. 

"It's after sundown, you'd be back at the Holt by now." His one eye blinked slowly at her. 

"Well, uh, I wanted spend the night by meself. Yeah." She sighed, kicking the water moodily.

"An' I be the Abbot o' Redwall." Tashoal spread his paw wide, as the younger otter looked at him puzzled. "You ain't 'eard o' Redwall?"

Ranapaw shook her head. Maybe Tashoal was a couple sails short of a ship after all.

"Nomsea must o' 'ad a tight leach on 'em." He muttered under his breath. How could anybeast not of heard of Redwall?

"Wot's that ya' say?"

"Oh, nuthin'. Anyways, why don't ya' tell me what really what 'appened this mornin'?"

Wringing her paws uncomfortably, Ranapaw told Tashoal everything, and everything Nomsea hated her for.

Tashoal nodded his head, absorbing her whole story. Nomsea hadn't changed a bit, still forceful and strict. 

"Easy gal, let uncle Tashoal get you a cup o' tea." He said when she finished. Ranapaw didn't even notice that she was biting her lower lip and wiping her eyes. Tashoal disappeared into a small opening, and came back with a wooden ship cup filled with strong smelling tea.

"It's only kelp tea, but it'll put some curl in yer whiskers." Tashoal gave her a small grin and sat back down. "Yore uncle 'ad no right to do that to you, Rana. But don't lure the shark 'less you want bit. Do y' understand?"

Ranapaw sighed, yet another adult telling what she should and shouldn't do. "Aye I 'ear you." Ranapaw yelped as Tashoal knocked her sharply on the head.

"I know y' hear me," Tashoal sat back on his heels. "You 'ave to understand me or you'll regret it later, matey."

Frowning Ranapaw rubbed her skull. "Fine, I shouldn't lure the shark 'less I want bit." She repeated, keeping a wary eye for anymore attacks from her uncle.

"That's better shipmate," The captain smiled; pleased he had gotten his message through. "So what'cha gonna do; you can drop anchor with me an' I can teach you what I know, or you can set sail an' 'ead back to the Holt."

Ranapaw swallowed the rest of her tea in one big gulp.

"I wanna learn, matey. I'm not going back!" She put her cup down resolutely on a slab of rock. 

"Ah, we'll start tomorrow since it's time t' buckle down the hatches an' settle in fer the night. It be well after sun down." Tashoal nodded and walked over to a small door set in the rock. "There's a bunk fer you."

Getting up, Ranapaw followed her grizzled uncle into the room. He turned to look at her before he left. 

"I expect t' see you out as'n the sun rises." He winked and blew out his lantern.

CHAPTER THREE

The sun rose over the Abbey of Redwall, casting its golden rays throughout the stained glass windows of the Great Hall. Few Abbey dwellers were up, given that everyone stayed up last evening for the Moonlight Feast. No one was in bed until well after midnight.

Marrla, a young mouse, adjusted her grip on her herb basket while she walked through the Abbey gardens. Her blue smock was wet from the dew off the various flowers and herbs in the garden. Sister Agnes, the Abbey Herbalist, sent Marrla out to find fresh herbs to replace the old stock. 

Bending down, Marrla gently picked off leaves of a small Feverfew plant. She could easily identify every herb and it's use in the small garden. Days spent in the Infirmary with Sister Agnes taught her many things. 

Throughout the Abbey, Marrla was looked on as a hard working, kind, mouse maid, who would probably become the Abbey Herbalist when Agnes retired. Her bright and optimistic were often used to describe the mouse maid.

"Hi Marrla!" A male voice came from the elm tree nearby. 

"Bren!" Marrla smiled broadly moving under the tree. She peered upwards trying to see her squirrel friend. "Come down where I can see you, you treeclimber."

Bren, a squirrel about the same age as Marrla, leaped down from the elm tree and landed nimbly on his feet beside the mouse. His short frame often made him an easy target for other squirrels to tease him. Bren tried to take it in stride, but his short temper got the best of him. He often got in fights, and found himself to be more of a loner. It amazed the others at the Abbey those two complete opposites, such as Marrla and Bren could become the best of friends. Some of the Brothers and Sisters even hoped that Marrla would rub off on Bren too.

"What'cha doing up so early, and working at that." Bren asked looking at the basket of herbs Marrla collected. "Hardly anybeast is even up, why work?"

The mouse maid just smiled and shook her head. A little voice in the back of her mind agreed with Bren, what was she doing working when she could be having fun? She looked at Bren, one bushy eyebrow raised and grinning. She looked back at her basket; a small smile crossed her face. 

"What do you plan on doing, or should I say where do you plan to go?"

"Oh well, I found something out in Mossflower that I thought you might like to see," Bren replied and grabbed Marrla's paw. "C'mon! No time to waste!"

He nearly dragged Marrla to the small east gate. She picked up the hem of her smock and ran after Bren through the gate and onto the small path outside the Abbey.

Bren stood on the edge of the path, tapping his footpaw with a big grin on his face. Just like a dibbun waiting to show his friend a newly discovered treasure. "You're as slow as old Brother Patrick, you know."

"Poor Brother Patrick, don't mock the poor creature," Marrla shook her paw and the short squirrel. Brother Patrick used a wicker walker to very slowly amble his way around the Abbey. 

"I was only joking Marrla," He stuck out his tongue and threw his arms up. "Are you ready? It's kind of a long walk."

Another smiled crept across Marrla's face. "For someone as impatient as you, you sure are taking the most time. I'm ready and waiting."

Their laughter echoing through the trees, the pair dashed off the path into the deep depths of Mossflower.

~*~

The little squirrel tied an old piece of cloth, he 'borrowed' from the Abbey kitchens around Marrla's eyes. His own brown eyes shone with excitement and anticipation.

"Bren!" The mousemaid's arms flew about searching for her friend. "What are you doing?!"

"Stop trying to knock my head off swinging your arms around like that. Just take it easy, it's a surprise." He put his paws on her shoulders and led her around a tight group of maple trees.

Marrla felt a bit nervous, afraid of tripping on an unseen root or log. Suddenly the dishcloth was untied. Bright colours of light danced in her vision. Blinking hard Marrla let her eyes re-adjust before opening them again. 

What she saw took her breath away.

She stood in the centre of a small glade. The forest trees separated allowing for light to reach the forest floor. Wild flowers sprang from the ground reaching their colourful petals up to meet the warm sunlight. Orchids, lilies, wild roses, irises, just to name a few, decorated the glade. Sunlight danced on the vibrantly coloured flowers, and the fragrance from the flowers hung lightly in the air. 

Stunned by the sheer beauty, Marrla stood in awe, rooted to the spot. How could she risk stepping on and crushing such a beauty! Bren stood behind her, grinning ear to ear. His brown eyes twinkled with pleasure, as his only friend in the world stood awed. 

"Bren...how did you find this place?" Marrla asked, her voice full of joy. "It's amazing, beautiful, splendid!"

Bren grinned even wider and rocked on his heels. "Oh, a little bird whispered it in my ear." 

Laughing, the pair sat in the middle of the glade, and lay down on their backs, in the soft flowers. Bren looked up at the endless blue sky. 

"Marrla, have you ever wanted to chase the sky?" He absently murmured.

"What?" Marrla glanced over at Bren puzzled.

"I mean, go places, see things, meet creatures." He flicked at a lazy bumblebee buzzing around his ear. "I've never seen a hare, or a sea otter, not even a badger before."

"Hmm," The same thought quite often ran through her own mind during winters spent inside the Abbey. "I know what you mean, this is as far as I've ever gone from the Abbey. I want to see the ocean, and the see the sunset over the-" Bren clamped a paw over her mouth, silencing her.

Bren sat up, glancing around the glade, scanning every shadow. Somebeasts were tramping through the forest nearby. 

"C'mon y' liddle snotnose." A harsh and very gruff voice echoed through the trees. Bren gulped and glanced down at Marrla, whose face was a mask of fear. 

A stout rat hauling a much younger and skinner rat by his ear entered the glade. The bigger rat, with crocked whiskers, and no front teeth, aimed a kick at the young rat. It whined pitifully and stumbled trying to keep up. Seeing Bren, the big rat grinned evilly showing a distinct lack of teeth. Bren pulled Marrla up.

"Ah-har! Looks like we founds us some dinner!" The rat pulled a long, half-rusted dagger from a fold in his dirty rags of clothing.

"Run Marrla!!" Bren yelled, pushing the mousemaid to get her going. Marrla stumbled through the glade and into the forest. Bren ran after, and glanced over his shoulder to see if the rat was following them. The rat, for such a fat creature, ran with an amazing amount of speed. The squirrel ran along beside Marrla, unknowingly heading away from the Abbey.


	2. (Chapter 4-5)

CHAPTER 4

Ranapaw leapt out of the small cot like a salmon struggling to get over a waterfall. 

With an empty bucket in his paws, Tashoal stood beside the bed. A small grin played at the corners of the old, grizzly, sea otter's mouth.

"Wot was that for?!" Ranapaw cried out through her chattering teeth and she vigorously rubbed her fur. 

"Remember I told ye t'be up at dawn?" The older otter shook the last drops of water out of the bucket and stated bluntly, "Well, it's dawn." 

Turning back towards the door of the small bedroom-like cave, Tashoal looked at his niece over his shoulder. "Get changed inta' some dry clothes an' come out for some mornin' vittles."

Creeping up behind her uncle, Ranapaw made ready to shake all of the cold water out of her fur, and onto her unsuspecting uncle.

"Don't even think about it, missie!" Tashoal didn't even look back, but continued on out of the cave.

Completely surprise, Ranapaw's jaw hung slack. Blinking, she wondered how he knew she was going splash water on him? Instead, she grabbed the towel Tashoal oh-so thoughtfully left for her on the rock ledge and hurriedly dried herself off. Her stomach rumbled reminding her she hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday.

Ranapaw joined her uncle in the main cave. Even though the sun was up, the cave still seemed dark. Water droplets echoed and the only real source of light was the reed torches around the cave. What better a place for an old sea pirate or so Nomsea told her, to live. Tashoal grinned at her, and waved for her to come over to the rock slab where he stood. 

Handing Ranapaw a steaming bowl of kelp porridge, Tashoal grabbed his own breakfast of lemon-steamed salmon and set about devouring the fish. Ranapaw wrinkled her nose and looked disappointed at the chunky contents of the bowl. She glanced at Tashoal's plate and then back at her bowl.

"How come I get.... this? And you get salmon!" She put her bowl back down on the rock slab and crossed her arms stubbornly. "'Tis not fair!"

Tashoal sat down in a wooden chair and took a huge bite of his salmon. "Yer right, it ain't fair. But wot are ya' gonna do about it?" He asked around a mouthful and pointed his fork at her. "Do ya' see anythin' else you can eat?"

"Well..." The young otter looked around the cave, getting the feeling she was being tricked. "No..." 

Tashoal took another huge forkful of his steaming salmon before continuing.

"Aye, that's me point. You can't 'ave everythin' ya' want." He swallowed, bobbing his head. "First step in becomin' a warrior, ya' 'ave t'learn to accept the world don't stop for you and life ain't ever gonna be fair. If'n the world was fair would there be such thing as galley slaves? 'Eh? So take wot you get, an' make something' out of it!"

Ranapaw nodded and scratched behind her ear, thinking to herself that wisdom often hid itself in strange creatures. The old, battle scarred otter didn't seem like the type of creature described as 'whimsical'. With a bit of a puzzled look, Ranapaw watched her uncle.

With a hearty chuckle, Tashoal handed Ranapaw the bowl of porridge back. Ranapaw still looked down at the porridge with disappointment, but swallowed another protest and swallowed a spoonful of bland porridge.

Sitting back against the ledge, Tashoal allowed a small, satisfied smile decorate his face. Willing, if not stubborn, he thought, finishing off the last bite of salmon. If only I wasn't so old, I'd teach her myself. The old otter slid down off the ledge and patted Ranapaw on the back.

Her cheeks puffed out full of unswallowed porridge, Ranapaw looked like a chipmunk with nuts in its cheeks. Closing her eyes, she choked down the foul porridge. She'd eaten a lot of porridge in her life, but nothing as bitter as Tashoal's. 

"Whew, guess ya' can't be a sea captain an' a cook 'eh?" She sighed with relief, and looked at Tashoal. His one eye narrowed at her comment. Ranapaw chuckled nervously and quickly changed the subject. "How did ya' know I wanted t'be a warrior?" 

"Oh, a warrior can tell another warrior from a mile away," Tashoal settled back in his chair. The look on Ranapaw's face indicated her curiosity. "I saw ya' more than once stand up fer others. Like when you gave Sealily a clout in the nose when she was going t'dump a pail 'o fish guttings on Nomsea's wee lad. Remember that? Even though you were the one who got punished ya' did the same thing again after. Do y'know why?"

Ranapaw fidgeted with her bracelet, wondering if she just kept quiet Tashoal would answer the question for her. After a moments silence, Ranapaw shrugged. "I dunno.."

Tashoal nodded, watching her with his single eye. Eventually she'd be able to answer that for herself. "C'mon Rana, 'tis time you got t'work." 

A little confused, Ranapaw blinked and watched Tashoal disappear behind another door. She half expected him to come out with another bucket of cold water to dump on her.

After listening to Tashoal rummage through things in the other room, curiosity over came her. Quietly she crept to the door, and peeked around the door and finally walked in.

With a wild cry, Tashoal leapt at Ranapaw from behind the door. Squeaking in surprise, Ranapaw dropped to the floor, allowing for Tashoal to pass right over her. She jumped up, ran out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

With her heart lodged in her throat, Ranapaw leaned against the door. Maybe uncle Nomsea was right about Tashoal being a crazy old sea captain. Too much sea water between the ears!

"Good job m'dear!" Tashoal exclaimed happily from behind the heavy door. "You can let me out now matey."

"No way, ya' crazy barnacle brained sea dog!" Ranapaw yelled back, bracing her back against the door. "First ya' dump cold water on me, then ya' make me eat that..that..gruel, and then ya 'ttack me!"

From behind the door, Ranapaw could of sworn she heard Tashoal chuckle quietly. After a few minutes of complete silence from behind the door, Ranapaw stepped away from it. Something fishy is going on, she thought as she looked at the door. Shrugging the feeling off, Ranapaw turned around to but her back against the door once again, but there was Tashoal, with a huge grin splitting his face.

Ranapaw stared at the Tashoal for a moment, then back at the door.

"Wha? How did you....in there...?" She floundered with words, before finally clamping her mouth shut.

"Just testin' yore reflexes me gal." His grin didn't diminish at all. "Not too bad, I must say so meself. Though I could 'elp improve it."

"Why are ya' testin' me?? Ranapaw asked, trying to make her voice sound more commanding and demanding of an answer. "I want a straight answer, not any o' yore tricks."

"Rana, Rana, Rana," Tashoal spread his skinny arms wide. "I've got t'know wot yore skills are like 'fore I start t'train ya'."

Ignoring the fact her uncle said it like she was daft, Ranapaw's eyes twinkled with excitement. She bobbed her head up and down. "Yore really gonna train me?"

The old sea captain nodded, "Since I can't teach ya' everything, I'm going to take ya to a place where I think you'll fit in shipshape." Tashoal stroked his whiskers. "'Fore ya' get yoreself inta' a knot an eel couldn't get outta, are ya sure you don't want t'go back home matey?"

The excited bobbing stopped and Ranapaw shoulders slumped forward. She didn't want to spend her life in a fishing Holt, but she didn't want to just forget about her family back at Holt Kelpda. Resolutely, she lifted her chin, she couldn't let herself regret this chance if she let it slip away. 

"I'm goin'!" She stamped her tail hard against the floor to accent her words. "I'm not goin' back!"

"Alright then mate, we leave today." Tashoal regarded Ranapaw proudly. "After lunch o' course though."

CHAPTER 5

On the horizon, from somebeast standing on the shore, the many dots ontop of the water could hardly be seen. By morning however those dots would drift closer, ominously, like thunderheads over the water to show their fearsome appearance.

The head of the fearsome ships loomed in size far greater than that of the other ships of the fleet. On the for' deck, the high general of the fleet (as he liked to call himself) stood surveying the expanse of water. Barax Leechpaw deeply inhaled the fresh salty air. He commanded the sea, ships loyal to him sailed the seas, plundering for him, conquering for him. Each ship in his great fleet were 'persuaded' with effective means to join his great fleet, which numbered over 200 ships.

A grim, evil smile crossed Barax's face. Now that he had the sea under his fist, it would be only fitting that the land were to become his also. If he could conquer the sea, with it's sudden squalls, and great expanse, he could conquer the simple landlubbers. 

The stoat's thoughts of domination were pushed back to a corner of his mind as his keen eyes sighted one of his fifty Bloodbearers slowly walking towards the forward deck.

Their long, crimson capes and long black robes could easily identify Bloodbearers. All Bloodbearers were mysterious and no beast knew why they were called Bloodbearers. Barax commanded a total of fifty Bloodbearers, who each commanded four ships. No beast ever dared to disobey the orders of a Bloodbearers, not even the ships' captains. To disobey a Bloodbearer meant instant, and painful death. Every fleet member had seen what torture a Bloodbearer could execute with the twin short swords that hung from their red silk belts. 

"Ahh, Searclaw," Barax's smooth as steel voice beckoned the Bloodbearer. "My Bloodbearer, what can I do for you?"

For a moment, Searclaw studied the high general. Even though Barax Leechpaw wouldn't be considered tall for his species, he still cut an imposing and impressive figure. His steel grey eyes could pierce anybeast to the soul. Always alert, searching, scanning, those eyes never seemed to miss anything. Barax's grey tunic perfectly matched his eyes and his deep brown fur. 

Few scars decorated his brown coat, with the exception of his paws. Furless white circles covered half the surfaces on both paws. On the fur that remained, tattooed images of leeches circled the scars. Both scars and tattoos the source of Barax's name.

"My Bloodbearer," Barax's eyes burned into the black and red robed rat. "You have come to tell me something, when do you plan to tell me? Or will I have to drag it out of you?"

"Of course not, my general." Searclaw bowed low and pushed back his black hood. "Sir, the WaveSmasher needs to repair her sails and some riggings. The other three ships under my paws also are in need of repairs."

The stoat raised an eyebrow. "Did you just come to tell me things I already know of?"

"No sir," The rat bowed his head once more and mentally kicked himself for stepping on the high general's paws. "Mearly I came to ask if you think it would be wise to find shelter to repair and rest the fleet?" Searclaw flinched slightly as Barax's razor sharp claws dug into the side of his neck. 

"Searclaw," Barax's voice even though it held the same tone as before was suddenly very calm, yet dangerous. He started to close his fist around the rat's neck. "A Bloodbearer's duty is to-" The stoat stopped suddenly, turning his head slightly. Searclaw let out a small, silent sigh of relief. 

Out from Barax's personal cabin, Ripteeth clung to the shadows, sure that no beast saw him. In the weasel's dirty claws was one of Barax's silver chalices. The weasel, new to the fleet, held a deep grudge against Barax Leechpaw for taking over his prized ship, the Ebony Blood, and his crew.

Ripteeth clacked his jagged, broken teeth together like a squirrel who just found a cache of nuts. Hah! All he had to do was coat a bit of puffer fish flesh around the inside of the cup. Then he would take his own ship back and go back to pirating the coast.

Sticking to the shadows, the rotund ex-captain gently shoved the silver chalice into the fold of his rags. Glancing around to assure himself that no beast saw him, Ripteeth's face cracked into a crooked grin, and the weasel loped off like a dibbun with a pawful of candied chestnuts.

Barax chuckled, and released his vice-like grip on Searclaw's throat. 

"Of all things, Ripteeth steals my chalice, 'eh?" 

Searclaw massaged his neck, unsure of what to say. Instead, he just nodded.

"Bloodbearers, raise the flags to order the fleet to drop anchor. I want all the Bloodbearer's on the this ship before dinner." He told Searclaw, watching Ripteeth walk away.

~*~


	3. (Chapter 6)

CHAPTER 6

The crew quickly gathered as the galley master vigorously rang the ship's triangle that summoned the crew for supper. Instead of all cramming into the galley, the crew lined up against the railing. 

Ripteeth elbowed his former first mate, Urgler, barely managing to keep a straight face. Urgler glanced at Ripteeth out of the corner of his eye, and furrowed his thick eyebrows over his beady eyes with puzzlement. The ex-captain rolled his eyes and stomped down hard on the rat's footpaw.

"Ywoch!!" Urgler yelped, jumping up and down grabbing his stepped on paw. He hopped around clumsily until he tripped on a coiled length of rope and collided smack bang into Bloodbearer Searclaw. 

"Stupid fool!" From the black hood, Searclaw's bright yellow eyes smoldered dangerously. Urgler gulped slowly as both of the Bloodbearer's short swords were pressed against his soft stomach. "High Commander Barax hates to be disturbed during his meetings with the other Bloodbearers. I'd hate to have to disturb him with the sounds of your screams."

Hastily, Urgler forgot his trodden on footpaw and stepped back into his place along the rail. Ripteeth grinned cruelly at his mate, who scowled back in return.

Searclaw moved back to his post against Barax's door. He could hear Barax's voice, and the muffled words of the other forty-nine Bloodbearers. Sliding his short swords back into his red silk sash, the Bloodbearer fixed the crew with an icy glare to show them he was in charge. The meeting would be over shortly, and soon they could eat. A few moments later Barax and the other Bloodbearers emerged, their leader with a small smile on his face.

"Now, we shall eat our last meal on the water,"

Quietly the crew followed behind the Bloodbearers and Barax to the galley. Another Bloodbearer, Traag, explained the meeting to quickly to Searclaw as they followed Barax. Ripteeth nearly laughed out loud at his good fortune. Barax would die in front of the whole crew and his Bloodbearers!

~*~

The crew waited for Barax and the Bloodbearers to be seated. The stoat flicked his wrist once, signaling the crew that they could be seated on the rough benches at the other end of the table. 

As the galley master and his helpers served out the feast, Barax's steely eyes glided around the table and rested a moment upon Ripteeth. The High Commander's mouth spread into a sardonic smile.

"Ripteeth, my faithful servant," As he spoke the rest of the talk and laughter around the table subsided into silence. "Come, your ship and crew have made a fine improvement to my fleet. Be proud that your ship was fine enough that I didn't have you and your ship destroyed upon seeing it."

The fat weasel was barely able to keep himself from grinding his teeth together. Instead, he gave his head a small nod, staring right back at Barax.

Barax lifted his leather boots onto the corner of the table. He beckoned Ripteeth with his silver his paw. "Come, have a drink from your High Commander's cup. A toast to this ship." 

As Barax spoke, Ripteeth paled visibly, wondering if someone had indeed see him steal Barax's chalice. Slowly he got up from the bench and walked to the head of the table where Barax lounged in his chair. 

Lifting the chalice, Barax cleared his throat loudly. "To Ripteeth and his ship," The crew and Bloodbearers echoed the toast with, 'Aye, aye' and raised their cups of grog and wine. 

Barax handed the chalice to Ripteeth, who stared at the chalice like it was a demon. He gulped, his dirty claws tapping against the metal chalice. 

"Drink Ripteeth," Barax's smile suddenly appeared sadistic, even though it never moved. Ripteeth brought the silver chalice to his lips, making a passable fake at drinking until Barax tipped the chalice up further. Rich, dark wine dribbled down Ripteeth's chin as he coughed and spluttered. The fat ex-captain's eyes bulged out, as he swallowed wine from the cup he had poisoned. Instantly he bent double, grabbing at his stomach. The chalice dropped to the wooden planks with a clang.

"I thinks Commander 'as poisoned him!" One of the deckhands whispered fearfully, unable to tear his eyes from a withering Ripteeth on the floor.

"What's the matter Ripteeth?" Barax bent over to pick up his chalice. He poured more wine into the glass and took a long sip. "Not a trace of that poison you rubbed on my chalice left." 

Ripteeth's eyes surprisingly expanded even more than they already were. Slowly he got off the floor and stood up. "How? I made sure no beast saw me!" The fat weasel yelled pulling his long dagger from his belt. 

The smile remained on Barax's face, like he was enjoying the whole scene. "I see all," Before Ripteeth could even lift his dagger any higher, the High Commander's long sword was through his middle.

The Bloodbearers continued eating, nodding among themselves. They had seen it all before, no beast could out trick Barax Leechpaw. Further down the table, the crew beasts, especially those that had Ripteeth as a captain, goggled at Barax, who released the mutineer's body from his sword with a swift kick.

"You there, Urgler, take your ex-captain's carcass and heave it overboard." Barax commanded as he tore the leg off a roasted gull in front of him. The rat jumped to obey consumed by consternation of the imposing High Commander.

The rest of the crew around the large oaken table resumed fighting over food and drink, each glancing up the table at Barax occasionally. 

Sinking his teeth into the tender meat, Barax savored the taste of the finely cooked bird. He leaned back in his chair, the same smile spread across his well-defined face. Tomorrow he would mark the beginning of his conquer of land, starting with the rich Port Mauda. 


End file.
